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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29301435">The Rhythm of Wings</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Edonohana/pseuds/Edonohana'>Edonohana</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dragonriders of Pern - Anne McCaffrey</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, Festivals, Flying</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 07:27:53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,209</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29301435</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Edonohana/pseuds/Edonohana</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Mirrim and Menolly go flying.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Menolly/Mirrim (Dragonriders of Pern), Mirrim &amp; Path (Dragonriders of Pern)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Chocolate Box - Round 6</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Rhythm of Wings</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Griddlebone/gifts">Griddlebone</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Gather Day, it’s a Gather Day,” sang the weyrlings in cheerful but off-key exuberance. And if even Mirrim could tell they were off-key, that was probably the least of their musical sins.</p><p>She had half a mind to search out the Weyrsinger, but Path sent her a feeling of eager anticipation that had absolutely nothing to do with improving the quality of music lessons in the Weyr. Mirrim ignored the weyrlings and re-checked Path’s riding straps. It wouldn’t be the first time Path had flown with two, of course, but it wasn’t as if it was something she was used to.</p><p><i>I could carry two of Menolly</i>, said Path. <i>She is tall, but without too much meat on her bones.</i></p><p>Mirrim grinned as she swung up on Path’s back, her fire lizards following and clinging tight to the straps. “You make her sound like a wherry.”</p><p><i>She sounds much nicer than a wherry,</i> replied Path.</p><p>Mirrim hadn’t known dragons made plays on words. But then, she’d never heard any other dragon. <i>Was that a pun?</i></p><p>Path sent her a smug feeling, a wordless <i>Now you know.</i>  But Mirrim was more amazed than amused. Every day, she learned something new about her dragon. She laid her hand on Path’s velvety emerald hide and murmured, “You are a wonder.”</p><p>She visualized the courtyard of Harper Hall. Path sprang aloft, her wings stretching out and beating hard. Their translucent membranes glowed in the sun like the stained glass they made at the Smithcraft Hall at Telgar Hold. Mirrim gloried in Path’s beauty and strength. She was still a very young dragon, but lithe and quick in the air. </p><p>
  <i>Blacker, blacker, blackest…</i>
</p><p>They emerged in the air above Harper Hall. Menolly was already there, looking upward with a hand shading her eyes, wearing pants and a tunic in Harper blue. Her fire lizards swooped and darted in a rainbow array.</p><p>Path landed, and Menolly ran up. “Oh, she’s beautiful. Every time I see her, she’s bigger. But still so graceful.”</p><p>Path preened, and Mirrim beamed. Then she spotted some boy trying to get Menolly’s attention, making a face at her as if he was trying to tell her she’d said something wrong. </p><p>Menolly, following Mirrim’s gaze, saw him too. Hastily, she said, “You look good too, Mirrim, in your riding leathers. Very dashing.”</p><p>Mirrim glared at the boy, who quailed and fled. To Menolly, she said, “I know you like me in my leathers. There’s no need to say so.”</p><p>“But you can soak up any amount of praise for Path.”</p><p>“Well, of course,” Mirrim began, then realized that Menolly was teasing her. “It’s true though. Praise her all you like.”</p><p>Menolly turned to Path and said, “You’re the most beautiful green dragon I’ve ever seen. Just now you descended light as a feather, but I’ve seen you turn in the air like the crack of a whip. And you have excellent taste in riders.”</p><p><i>Thank you,</i> said Path.</p><p>Menolly jumped. “I heard that!”</p><p>Mirrim wasn’t surprised. “She calls you by name, too. Come on. Don’t let the bubbly pies get cold.”</p><p>She gave Menolly a hand up, and watched her as she buckled herself in. Her fire lizards circled in the air above them rather than trying to perch on Path. A good thing too. They’d never all fit. </p><p>Menolly put her arms around Mirrim’s waist and leaned in close, resting her chin on Mirrim’s shoulder. It was a position they’d been in before, but only sitting in bed or embracing by a fire, never on dragonback. She could barely feel the shape of Menolly’s body through the leathers, and only taste a hint of her warmth. But it felt as intimate as if they were both naked. Mirrim was a rider now, and Menolly was sharing that part of her life.</p><p>Mirrim visualized the Gather grounds, and Path ascended into the sky. Once she was aloft, she sailed light as a cloud, gliding in slow, luxurious circles. Mirrim could barely feel any movement at all. </p><p><i>Show-off</i>, said Mirrim. </p><p>“It’s as if <i>I’m</i> flying,” said Menolly. “I mean, by myself.”</p><p>Once again, Path sent Mirrim that wordless <i>I told you so</i>.</p><p>“Cold bubbly pies,” Mirrim reminded her. “I expect to us they taste like a cold, long-dead wherry tastes to you.”</p><p>With a snort of disgust, Path blinked <i>between</i>.</p><p>They emerged above the Gather, where Path did a slow spiral downward in that same controlled floating manner that Menolly had so enjoyed before. She landed as if she weighed nothing. Menolly’s fair appeared above them, one by one, glittering gold and bronze, brown and green and blue. </p><p>Menolly made no move to unbuckle her straps. “I almost don’t want to go. I never knew that flying on a dragon could be like… like singing Moreta’s farewell in ‘The Ballad of Moreta’s Ride.’”</p><p>“It is Moreta’s <i>ride,</i>” Mirrim pointed out. “Would you really miss bubbly pies to ride on Path some more?”</p><p>“Wouldn’t you?” </p><p>“Well, of course! But I’m me.” Mirrim swallowed down an unexpected rush of emotion. Much as she loved Menolly, she’d never expected this part of her life to be something a non-rider could ever really understand—even a non-rider with nine fire lizards. </p><p>“I was meant to Impress a queen, wasn’t I?” Menolly asked. “If I hadn’t gone to Harper Hall.”</p><p>Mirrim hadn’t thought of it before, since Menolly had stayed for such a short time before Master Robinton had found her. “Yes, I suppose you must have been. That first Impression, you couldn’t have because you were injured. You could barely even stand up! But you had your fair, and the dragons liked you. And nobody knew girls could Impress greens. You would have been a candidate for the next gold egg.”</p><p>When Menolly didn’t reply, Mirrim twisted around, trying to read the expression on her face. “Are you sorry you didn’t? It might not be too late. Gold candidates are older.”</p><p>“I’d have to give up being a Harper.”</p><p>“You could be a Weyrsinger, maybe. You’d be much better…” Mirrim broke off as her mind raced ahead of her words. “Well, no. Queenriders have other jobs.”</p><p>Menolly smoothed down the blue cloth of her tunic. “<i>I</i> have another job. Can you imagine me trying to be Lessa?”</p><p>“Nobody but Lessa is Lessa,” said Mirrim. “Brekke isn’t. She wasn’t, even when she was a queenrider.”</p><p>“When Path was going into the glide, I was trying to think what kind of instrument would catch the feeling of the beating of her wings.” Menolly made a noise with her mouth that wasn’t at all like wingbeats, but had… the feeling of them, Mirrim supposed. It definitely captured the rhythm. “Usually you use a drum for dragonwings. I'd <i>start</i> with drums, for the ascent. But then, as she slows, I’d need an instrument that can stretch out a note, so you can hear--<i>feel</i>--how it fades into stillness.”</p><p>“You could never be anything but a Harper,” said Mirrim. “But—”</p><p><i>Forget the old dead pies</i>, said Path, and Mirrim knew from the half-startled, half-amused inhale that that Menolly heard her too. <i>You don’t need a queen to fly</i>.</p><p>Path’s wings beat like a drum, carrying them both back into the sky.</p>
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